


One Way or Another

by TheDirtyBirdie-Archive (TheDirtyBirdie)



Series: Prompt/Request Fills [7]
Category: Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Breathplay, Double Penetration, M/M, Other, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sounding, Tentacles, Teratophilia, Vaguely Canon-Adjacent, monster fucking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-15
Updated: 2018-05-15
Packaged: 2019-05-05 13:21:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,182
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14619417
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheDirtyBirdie/pseuds/TheDirtyBirdie-Archive
Summary: Venom is going to find a way to reclaim Peter's body, even if it has to be done unconventionally.





	One Way or Another

**Author's Note:**

> Please know I had no idea what I was doing while writing this. Picture whichever iteration of the characters you like best. I stole the title from Blondie because? I don't have a good reason.
> 
> This story fills a request ♥

The first thing Peter realizes when he wakes is that he can’t move.

The second thing he realizes is  _ why _ .

Venom- Eddie? He’s not sure, at this point, is hovering over him on all fours, thick, black tendrils protruding out of him to wrap around Peter so thoroughly he has no chance of escape.

“Eddie-” Peter tries, not even sure what he’s going to say or what he’s trying to stop. Nausea strikes the words from his tongue as one of the tendrils winds around his neck, going tight as Venom leans in close, mouth splitting into a sharp smile and even in the dark he can see the gleam of teeth so sharp he can imagine with excruciating clarity how it must feel to have them sink into your skin. A shudder passes down his spine as Venom speaks.

“Not quite, Parker.”

Peter tries to plead, to do something- anything, but it’s a lost cause when venom constricts around his neck enough he can’t do anything but wheeze. The thick cords around him feel strangely snake-like and their tightening combined with the spike in his heart rate has panic beginning to flood his system as his head pounds in time with the frantic rush of his pulse.

A slick, inhuman tongue comes down to drag over his face as he chokes for air and he does his best not to think about it, instead focusing on fighting the grey haze encroaching on his vision, though it’s impossible to tamp down the urge to gag even as he struggles for breath. He’s distantly aware of the fact that his limbs are doing their best to wrestle free out of instinct, but it’s not doing him any good.

He squeezes his eyes shut and desperately tries to quell the panic inside of him. His lungs are burning and the more he moves the faster he’ll waste what little air he has left. He’s only just gotten his breathing under control when Venom pulls back, loosening the hold over his neck just enough that he can manage to fill his lungs.

“Any time you want to stop, you just say the word.”   
“What? Of course I  _ want to stop _ , you-”   
“On one condition.”

Now that he can breathe again, there’s anger rising quick to take the place of fear- or, well, maybe he’s giving himself too much credit. Anger at least rising enough to match the fear he feels. Still, he knows he doesn’t exactly have the upper hand here. Maybe the condition won’t be so bad?

“If you want to stop, you will be our host again.”  
“No.” Peter bites back without thinking, sharp pain flaring through his ribs with a wince when Venom’s hold tightens.  
“Either way, your body will be ours, your only choice is how.”

That’s- that’s not exactly how he was hoping things would go.

“I got rid of you before, I can do it again.” For a moment he’s concerned that’s it, he’s about to be crushed past the point he can heal all because he couldn’t just  _ shut up _ \- but that’s not what happens at all. Instead, Venom’s ugly grin only grows wider, and somehow he’s even more nervous than he was when he thought he might be about to die.  
“If that’s what you really want.” His shoulders roll in something like a strangely alien imitation of a shrug, Peter gets the impression he does  _ actually _ grow in size when he does it and, well- it never bodes well.

Before he can think too far into what this means, Venom is stepping off the bed and Peter is being spun around and dragged across the bed on his back to come face to face with-  _ fuck, no. _

Peter can feel the panic rising anew in his chest and he knows he’s shaking against the tendrils holding him in place. Knows Venom feels it, too, knows he likes it from the disgustingly pleased look on his face he can see past the obstructing view of his inhumanly large cock looming just over Peter’s face. It’s the same sticky-looking, black as the rest of him, but with an engorged purple tip that makes Peter burn just to look at.

There’s a scorched, metallic smell to him that it would be impossible not to pick up, this close, he tries to flinch away but can’t manage to get far against Venom’s strength. A sick laugh emanates out of his-  _ its _ chest as he bends just a little to drag his cock over his face. Bile rises in his throat and he chokes it down as he desperately seals his lips shut, breathing hard through his nose, unable to keep from hyperventilating entirely.

His cock is disgusting, it almost seems to  _ move _ , skin- if you could call it that- shifting on its own. His bones ache with how hard he’s struggling to get free but it’s no use as Venom’s heavy cock pushes against his sealed lips. There are tears already blurring his vision with the struggle of holding back the urge to gag at the thought of him alone.

“However long you want to drag this out is up to you, but it  _ is _ happening.”

He sounds vicious, promising in the worst way, but not particularly hurried, Peter knows these words are just for him. Just to force him to be the one who lets this happen.

It makes him sick that it works.

There’s no way- no other alternative. He isn’t strong enough to get away, he doesn’t have his web shooters or even his phone. He’s trapped, and the one thing he can trust is true is that the sooner this starts, the sooner it ends.

He lets his mouth fall open with a sob that’s muffled almost immediately by the fat cock forcing its way into his mouth. Even with the tendrils holding him steady he’s shaking against the feeling of it, lips stinging and sharp pain lancing through his jaw at the stretch of it. He chokes painfully around him as he scrapes down his throat.

If he weren’t already crying, the sickening, devastating humiliation he feels at the drag of balls over his face as Venom sinks in deeper, making his body convulse against his grip, would be enough to do it. He’s so deep inside him he feels like he might actually die, like he’ll never, ever be able to get rid of the stretched out burn in his throat.

When he pulls back Peter only gets a fraction of a second to suck down air before Venom is forcing himself back down, and it’s no easier the second time, or the third, or the fourth. It never gets easier. He gets more sore, and more sick, to the point he’s afraid he might really pass out and god only knows what will happen to him then. His when the tendrils over his throat begin to squeeze and massage Venom’s cock through his throat fear spikes under his skin sharp enough to be painful as the edges of his vision go watery.

This is when things get worse.

Without any reprieve from Venom’s cock, he’s being maneuvered until he hangs upside down, legs forcibly splayed why, and he’s too dizzy and disoriented from the lack of air to understand exactly what’s happening until he feels sharp fingers-  _ claws _ , more like, spread him wide, scraping down the centre of him just hard enough he’s sure it leaves a welt.

When a sharp, wet tongue drags down over him and Peter wants, more than he’s ever wanted anything, to be able to crawl out of his own skin. Slink away and never, ever feel a single inch of skin venom has touched again. He foolishly thinks he can’t feel any worse and then there’s a vicious prodding at his hole and he chokes extraordinarily painfully around Venom’s cock as his body tries to recoil from his tongue.

He doesn’t succeed, of course, doesn’t even manage an inch with how well restrained he is, then Venom’s tongue is pushing into his ass, where no one else has ever touched him, and, worst of all, deeper than anyone else will ever be able too. He’ll never be able to change this, now. Never able to erase the mark Venom leaves inside him with someone else, someone he cares about. This will be his, forever.

He goes deeper than Peter even knew was possible, stretching him further with every inch further he slips, seemingly never ending. It’s inescapable, now, the feeling of him. Between his cock deep in his throat and his tongue in his ass, he feels like Venom has reached every part of him, invaded every space that was his. Ruined it, ruined  _ him _ .

He’s naive enough to think he can’t possibly feel any more disgusted with himself until a thin tendril comes up to wrap around his cock and  _ squeeze _ . He shudders as waves of arousal and revulsion roll over him in turns as the tendril begins to work his cock. He feels a sinking misery in his chest expanding as he slowly hardens.

Once he’s begun to leak it only gets worse. Because of  _ course _ it does, because that’s all that ever happens. In his life, but now, especially.

The thin tip of the tendril has gone rigid, pressing against the tip of his cock and-  _ oh, god,  _ slipping inside one nodule at a time and creating a delicious, invasive pressure that makes Peter want to throw up. He’s shivering at the sensation, leaking more, heavier, and hating himself further with every stroke of his cock, working it over the thing inside.

He’s so distracted that he’s finally lost track of what’s happening around him, and when he feels something slick and blunt press up against him alongside Venom’s tongue, cold shock runs down his spine. No,  _ no _ .

It’s impossible to put up a fight, but he still tries, straining and pushing, doing anything he can, but none of it helps. If anything, it only hurts worse when the tendril forces its way inside him. He feels like he’s being torn apart from the inside out. Every inch it sinks in feels newly impossible, setting his insides on fire in both the most painful and pleasurable way, Peter’s not sure which one is worse. He keeps expecting him to pull back, bottom out, but it doesn’t come.

He can feel the horrible, unnatural way Venom’s tendrils stretch and writhe and bend with horrifying detail. It’s something he knows he’ll never be able to forget, as if he can feel it physically branding itself over his psyche as it reaches deeper, burning inside him.

When it finally starts fucking into him properly, pushing new waves of nausea and arousal through him with every thrust, he’s foolish enough to think that’s the worst of it. What more could come? The only mercy, he thinks, is that he’s slowly, very slowly, losing his grip on consciousness, he regrets fighting it so hard, now. Should have taken the out before adrenalin flooded his system and made it impossible. He’s sincerely doubting that things could still get worse, and he doesn’t want to be awake if they do.

Unfortunately for him, he’s not quite so lucky, not yet, at least. 

Venom’s tongue withdraws and for half a second he actually thinks it might be a  _ relief _ , until a second,  _ thicker _ tendril is pushing against him and he hardly even has a moment to fear the way it’s going to hurt before all he can think of is the sharp, blindingly miserable burn tearing him open. Feeling that way, at least.

His mind has gone blank with sick pain and pleasure as both tendrils continue to fuck into him at a vicious pace, with a depth he’ll never be able to blot out. He loses track of time, and when his own orgasm takes him, ripping through him like fire and spattering all down across his chest, it’s both the best and worst thing he’s ever felt.

It’s the worst because he’s going to have to live with himself, now.  _ Know _ , forever, that he got off on this. No matter how much he didn’t want it, how much it hurt, some part of him liked it.

It’s the best because Venom finally,  _ finally _ slips out of him. Lets his cock go free and leaves an aching chasm inside him, releases his throat and neck and lowers him down to the mattress, almost gentle. It feels disgusting, laughable, as the tendrils slide away.

With the adrenalin waning, his vision is spinning, going cloudy around the edges, and he doesn’t have the energy or will to fight it, this time. Before he can pass out, though, he feels the splash of hot, viscous liquid over his face. He hiccups with tears he doesn’t feel quite connected to his body enough to shed, and the last thing he hears before everything goes blissfully dark is Venom promising him that they’ll be back, as many times as it takes for him to say  _ yes _ .

**Author's Note:**

> I can't believe you all want to fuck venom. I can't believe _I_ want to fuck venom. 2018 is weird. Say hello/leave a request below or [on tumblr](https://dirtybirdie.tumblr.com/) ♥


End file.
